


Lost Impact

by OceanPalace



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst (Predominantly), Budding Love, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kamukura project, Komahina Secret Exchange, M/M, student life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 12:51:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanPalace/pseuds/OceanPalace
Summary: Writing poems for the sake of remembrance was not unlike repentance, but it was more so a wish. Damned beyond possibility, perhaps, but Komaeda Nagito had an uncanny way of his luck twisting and turning odd ends in his life.His only choice would be leave it up to such, having nothing left but the hope Hinata had instilled in him.--Written for the Komahina Secret Exchange (2018) for @kosakawalterwhite (Tumblr).Prompt: Komaeda is considered for the Kamukura Project, as well as Hinata + Childhood Friends AU.





	Lost Impact

**Author's Note:**

> hiya! it's my first year joining the kmhn secret exchange and it's been a mighty good time. this ended up rather lackluster and sloppy as i fell ill and got swamped with college to the point where i didn't have the energy to access my computer... oof... but at least it's out! i hope you like it!  
> i was a little unsure how to go about this prompt, but i hope it turned out alright! thank you!
> 
> please follow kosakawalterwhite on tumblr!! they seem mighty cool and have good taste!
> 
> the original post can be found at http://komahinasecretexchange.tumblr.com/ !!

 

>  
> 
> **"You break away; find a place in the world.**
> 
> **The omnipresent paradise, beyond your sight and yet within your reach -- to spread your arms, past cocooning walls that bind you flush against the shell of Gaia.**
> 
> **Embezzled upon flesh-like ruby, rough and imperfect.**
> 
> **In hopes that you'll discover love, void of venom, within the sticky silk threads; within those very lines that seemed to be —"  
>    
>  **

 

_Snap._

 

It was another piece of lead gone to waste.  
 

Though brushing away the chipped graphite seemed too menial to give attention to, so he let the dust rest on the pages and chewed down on the skin of his bottom lip instead. At least it would serve as another reminder, that it was just one more failed attempt at expressing his feelings. 

 

These failures of conveyance that costed him the one person he cared for; another one that got away, only slipping like the sands of time between his very own fingers. But that too he believed was his own fault, his own recklessness.

 

Setting his pencil down beside the paper felt like giving up again. It only made him think about past mistakes; what had been found and lost almost immediately. Like all bits and pieces of happiness in his life, they all left him sooner or later. He’d accepted that, come to terms with it.

There was no reason to mindlessly whittle away thoughts like prayers upon the lines of blanched paper. This canvas held no significance to him other than being just another means of making the hours pass. Hours that were heavy in emotion, emotion like regret and melancholy.

 

While in a metaphorical sense, it had no taste, but if Komaeda had to describe it, sometimes it wasn’t unlike the adamantly bitter and sour flavour of gooseberry lying at the back of his tongue. Not even a pleasant aftertaste would be worth the trouble. But thinking about it and what it meant to him in a deeper context, it really did make him want to cry, strangely enough.

 

There were very few cruelties in this world that could do that.

 

A rough exhale through his nose and suddenly the walls of his dorm room felt like they were alive, closing in on him as if he’d walked into a death chamber. As if time itself would borrow divine hands to crush him if he kept beating around the bush with his feelings.  

What was it exactly that made him so enamoured with the reserve course student, Hajime Hinata? That mysterious gravitation to him that kept drawing him closer to the boy with every passing encounter. That mysterious gravitation to him that only burned and stung when he was ripped away by the academy.

It was cruel wasn’t it? But like all things, perhaps it was something Komaeda had indeed deserved.

 

And yet, it all brought him back to the same place every night when he thought of such things. Contemplating the fine divide between wrong and right, and to arrive at the conclusion that sacrifice was inevitable to begin with. It only made him more frustrated with Hinata. It only made him miss him more.

The boy who wandered the halls nowadays wasn’t Hajime Hinata. Merely a taunting reminder of the academy’s success in taking away someone precious to him, that someone who’s now nothing more than an empty shell of a human being; a doppelganger with contrasting personalities, even if the person who stands today is known as the Ultimate Hope.

 

There was something about Hinata’s hope that always meant more to Komaeda.

 

There was something in the way that the caterpillar was always overshadowed by the butterfly, if only because of the shallow taste of what was to be considered beautiful. Komaeda knew that there was something far more valuable in that particular caterpillar; a hardworking and earnest nature, selflessness, empathy. A friendship that meant something more than words could describe, and because he’d lost his way, he’d lost sight of it.

 

Writing poems for the sake of remembrance was not unlike repentance, but it was more so a wish. Damned beyond possibility, perhaps, but Komaeda Nagito had an uncanny way of his luck twisting and turning odd ends in his life.

His only choice would be leave it up to such, having nothing left but the hope Hinata had instilled in him.

  

Truthfully, the thoughts reinvigorated him, brought back both bitter and pleasant memories of a boy with chestnut hair and warm but calloused hands. But with a hundred more fireflies lighting up within his chest to keep him company without being overbearing, and the hope bound within the marrow of his very bones, he brandished his pen and began his work anew.  


 

* * *

 

 

“Komaeda… has been acting funny, hasn’t he?”  
  
The question came as a flick on the forehead than a bulldoze, but Hinata still managed to flinch at the words. His eyes fell on the disgruntled Matsuda Yasuke, lazily combing the steel end of his ballpoint pen through locks of what _might_ be greasy hair. “You noticed it too, right?”  
  
There was a moment of panic in the moment of silence where Hinata truly believed that Matsuda had just heard him judging him over his hygiene, only to realize that, no, it’s most definitely still about Komaeda. And yet another moment of silence, where Hinata leaned forward to tiredly fold his arms on the desk. That alone may or may not have earned a pointed glare, possibly a non-verbal death threat from the Ultimate Neurologist for invading his space, despite his crude nature also apparent in his lack of organizational skills.

Papers were stacked into piles for the sake of creating some semblance of tidiness, if only for the sake of being a façade for others. Both Hinata and Komaeda were well acquainted enough to know that the real Matsuda, despite being a genius, was hardly enthused by the idea of tidying up. In fact, it was still a mystery to them how he’s managed to keep track of the documents that Hope’s Peak Academy had forced down his throat.

 

“It… depends on what you mean, Matsuda.” Hinata already felt tired from the conversation, “I don’t exactly have the skills of an analyst, but I’d assume you have _something_ like that, being the Ultimate Neurologist and all.”

Matsuda’s expression of mild irritation didn’t cease, in fact it looked like it had gotten worse to Hinata. “I know you don’t, dumbass. But I’m not his loner boyfriend who mopes all day, that’d be your job. I’m asking you if you think that he’s acting differently.”

 

Hinata could feel a nerve being purposely stepped on, but ignored it, it was all just to rile him up for amusement, after all. “Yeah, no, I’m not his boyfriend. We just grew up together.” A mutter under his breath left him, and from the corner of his eye, he could see the bastard looking vaguely amused.

“Secondly, it’s not really my business to say but… given that you are qualified to know about this kind of thing, I’d say that he has changed. Ever since he joined the academy, ever since we were separated into different streams.”  
  
Matsuda stayed silent for a little while, suddenly scribbling something down with the pen he’d tucked in the fold of his ear with a rather serious expression, before turning back to Hinata.  
  
“Sorry if that wasn’t the information you were looking for—”  
  
“No, it’s fine. I just needed to gather a bit more intel before I go any further with anything.”

  
Hinata found his interest _and_ concern piqued by his words, lifting his head from his cushioning forearms,

 

“Hey what exactly do you mean by, ‘go any further’? Is Komaeda okay?”  
  
“So. We’re back to square one, are we?”  
  
“Answer the question, Matsuda.”

 

Hinata probably pressed harder than he should’ve. The latter broke down any semblance of a conversational mood and retreated back into his shell at those words. Talking was never his speciality, and it’s understandable, but frustrating when he’s suddenly dropped into a minefield of unknown and potentially unwanted answers.

 

But his eventual answer was as clear as a bell.

“That’s not any of your business. That’s between Komaeda and I, just like this contract is between you and I.” He spoke with a firmness in his voice, skimming through handfuls of mismatched documents with an annoyed glare pointed at the papers in his hands, as if they’d shrink under his intimidation.  
“You should consider what I said about the Kamukura Project. It’s your decision, but you don’t have a lifetime to decide.”

 

The Kamukura Project, as far as Hinata was concerned, was his biggest opportunity at gaining a sense of self-worth and value at a place like Hope’s Peak Academy. In writing, there was a place for talentless people, the Reserve Course, but it was a name full of bitterness and resentment; a place he didn’t want to acknowledge. He was no different than discarded scraps that served no purpose, didn’t hold a candle to those known as the Ultimates. The main course was somewhere he wanted to belong, alongside Komaeda, who he’d known for so long and yet, in such a short time became so distant that he hardly recognizes the bond between them anymore. Hinata would spend nights on his own wondering if things would ever change between them.  
  
His parents told him to be cautious about potentially throwing his life away, but what meaning is there to being cautious if there isn’t anything to protect? Himself? His self-worth? They may as well be nonexistent. No matter how hard he tried to fit in and convince himself that Hajime Hinata means more as a person than Kamukura Izuru.

 

He wouldn’t lie to himself and say that the possibility of going through with the project wasn’t on his mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Hinata had any form of a social encounter was when he watched Komaeda with his back to him by the school water fountain, rolling up his sleeves with an uncharacteristically determined look on his face. Though it looked more like a pout, one that made Hinata smile a bit, helped him feel better from the emotional rollercoaster in his mind. A mind that’s _probably_ already short-circuiting from overload by now, if he’s honest.  

 

“Is… everything okay, Komaeda?” He spoke with caution, as to not startle the other.

 

Too late.

 

There was a yelp, a blurry white mop of hair, the sound of a crash, and water everywhere before anyone could even register what just happened. Several heads turned in their direction to find the Ultimate Lucky Student fully drenched from the fountain pool. Almost as if to comically mock him, a lily pad nonchalantly rested on his shoulder.

The situation only made the boy all but sigh in resignation, plucking off the coins and vegetation that stuck to his uniform, forgetting about Hinata’s presence beside him as he continued to pick at himself. It was only when he noticed the hand extended to him that he found his friend with a sympathetic smile, though Komaeda had no problem reciprocating it in an instant despite his state.  
  
“Oh? Hinata-kun! I didn’t realize you were back from your meeting with Matsuda-kun.” He gave a sheepish smile, one that Hinata had gotten used to seeing over the years at untimely incidents, “I’m sorry for the unsightly mess, I happened to drop my wallet in here, but it was really deep in the pool. What rotten luc—”

  
“I don’t think you need to see that as luck, just a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes, so don’t sweat it.”  
  
Taking the arm that had been outstretched to him, Komaeda gave Hinata a rather shaky smile before being assisted out of the pool, swiping up the wallet while he still had a chance, “Hm… If you say so…”  
  
Dripping wet from head to toe, it was clear that it would be impossible to do anything but change into new clothes. Summer was already over, and fall would set in any day; there was no way for the heat to dry it off, not to mention, it’d be unwise to get sick at a time like this.

  
“Hey, let’s head inside and get a new set of clothes alright?” Hinata’s eyebrows furrowed in concern at him, the small voice in the back of his head nagging him about a list of potential injuries or new illnesses that he should ask about in case the incident triggers anything. Hinata decided it would be easier if his brain knew when to shut up.  
 

Komaeda said nothing apart from a half-hearted nod at the words. With a light huff, Hinata observed the boy calmly flicking droplets of water off his jacket and wet hair, not unlike a cat grooming itself clean and dry. Watched him shiver as a mildly cool breeze drifted between them, and something akin to endearment, though foreign to him, crawled its way through his heart at the sight.  
  
If he pretended for a moment, he could imagine that nothing had changed at all between them, and that his feelings for once, could be valid. But he both knew and didn’t know anything and everything about Komaeda Nagito.

Their relationship itself warped into a contradiction over the years, as he listened to Komaeda vent to himself when Hinata pretended to be asleep on the nights he would visit. As he watched the academy draw him into the program, found a use of the talent that damn near ruined his life. Witnessed how, over the years, it felt like Komaeda drifted further and further away; as if he’d made the realization, that he misjudged Hinata’s worth. Realized that he was always the lesser of the two.  
  
He’d never said so out loud, but somewhere in his eyes, Hinata could make out that there was something different, something colder about him that donned walls around his heart that simply wouldn’t budge, — walls with thorns, enveloped in lush ivy, aged cedar that would splinter to wound, and bricks that wouldn’t shatter. — As if it were a challenge, a warning, to stay away from him.

 

* * *

 

“So, what was it that you and Matsuda-kun talked about?” Komaeda’s chirp could be heard from across the classroom they’d stepped into for Komaeda to change into the spare uniform, letting Hinata watch the door as he undressed, “Knowing him, Matsuda-kun is really a man of few words and a man of even fewer expressions.”

 

It had probably been the second time today that Hinata had been caught off guard by a question, though this time it was likely due to the fact that he’d been astral-projecting to keep his mind off of everything that happened today. Unfortunately, with all but slight irritation itching at him, it didn’t seem like he would have his way. “Oh, you know just…”  
  
He knew that by avoiding Komaeda’s eyes, he was being a coward. He was stalling, but it could only ever _go_ as far as stalling. It was difficult to dodge the subject after all.  
  
“…He asked what’s been up with you, and I told him that things were fine.”  
  
“Oh… is that it?”  
  
_No, not really_ , as Hinata’s guilty subconscious would plead. “Yeah, that’s about it? He told me the rest was confidential”  
  
Komaeda brought his voice to a low hum, suddenly finding the ground to be far more interesting, “Why didn’t you just talk to me if there was something on your mind?”  
  
“It was Matsuda who asked, not me.” Hinata let out a reluctant huff, not even meaning to let the next words slip, “Besides, can I really trust you to tell me the whole truth and talk about your feelings if I just asked?”

 

It takes the both of them by surprise, it even shocks Hinata that the words, the truth, came out of his mouth instead of a usual coverup. It was difficult to lie around Komaeda, even if the situation was stifling, and maybe his complicated feelings were truly more trouble than he’d bargained for. But he was well aware, knew better than to expect things to go his way and be understood clearly.  
  
“Hinata-kun doesn’t trust me, huh? That’s unfortunate…” It was without malice, but there were traces of bitterness in the way he smiled at Hinata.

 

There should’ve been a negation, something that’d speak Hinata’s thoughts clearly. But the risks that came with honesty, and the chains and ankle braces keeping him bound to secrecy all but break him into a state of silence. It felt like leaving his body suspended, a subject for target practice, putting his life in the hands of scientists that may or may not think of him no differently than a desperate lab rat.  
A dull pain throbbed at the back of his head, and he knew it was in his best interest to try and shut off his brain, before the cogs and gears holding him together really did fall apart.  
  
“Are you sure you’re not hiding anything from me?  
  
“…I think it’s the other way around, truthfully.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Are you sure you’re not hiding anything from _me_?” It was dangerous playing with potential fire, and Hinata knew that a little too well from experience. But sometimes the gamble was necessary to find out the truth about those you care about, those that find it hard to be honest, “I know you’ve been seeing Matsuda lately too, unless I’m more out of touch than I realize.”

Komaeda’s expression faltered into one that told Hinata that he’d caught him off guard. He waited, noticing Komaeda’s eyebrows tense ever so slightly, and the nervous habit of biting onto his bottom lip that stuck to him through childhood. He waited, watching Komaeda hesitate, opening and snapping his jaw shut in a whirlwind of indecision possibly running through his mind, _‘do I really want to trust the reserve course student’_ being a distinct possibility, as Hinata’s intrusive thoughts never failed to remind him.

 

“I thought so. its fine, I expected that kind of reaction anyway. anyway, I’ll see you later. don’t get into any trouble.”  
  
It was just a matter of slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder and being on his way, yet, when he swears that he could hear Komaeda say the words, “I’m sorry for being such trouble to you, Hinata-kun” it makes him stop in his tracks.

But an equally overpowering thought consumes him anyway, reminds him that things will never be the same for them, forces his feet to walk away from the boy he thought he knew. _Just for today_ , he told himself, _it’s just for today_.

 

 

* * *

 

Hinata despised how the cold autumn breeze reminded him of how things had been perfectly fine between them. It frustrated him how much his involvement with the Kamukura Project interfered with the sense of peace in his life. Some how, despite only being a month since they’d asked him to consider the contract. Throwing away your sense of identity, even as a nobody, was no different than ending his own life; throwing away memories, relationships, experiences, feelings, for the sake of talent.  
  
But it was talent that was regarded with value in this world, not tall tales from one’s heart. The supposed purity of one such insignificant individual meant nothing in the grand scheme of things— it meant nothing to society, his loved ones, or himself. It was skill, it was a will to live, it was revolutionary tactics that could change the world and give him a _real_ name. And maybe, just maybe, that name was Kamukura Izuru.  
  
Before Hinata found himself in an endless struggle to fall asleep, the corner of his eye caught his phone screen lighting up. Curious, but rather unenthused, he unlocked it to find a missed call along with a text message from Komaeda.  
  
It took a few seconds, maybe a minute, or maybe an hour with how long it took to process the message. It made him terrified to think about, especially the consequences of reckless behaviour, but somewhere in the back of his mind he still wanted to trust Komaeda. Out of all people, he at least deserved to know. And today… he knew he’d have the chance today; it was now or never.  
  
Not caring to change into anything but sweatpants and a t-shirt, Hinata found himself rushing outside of the reserve course student dorm, in search of the one person who adamantly refused to leave his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

 

It was the gazebo in the courtyard where he and Komaeda ate lunch together for the first time, in early spring where the cherry blossoms fluttering into their food made Hinata sneeze incessantly over allergies.

  
He learned two things that day. One, it turned out that despite the hilarity of it, Hinata had a mild allergy to that specific flower — which may also be the reason why he avoided sakuramochi like the plague. And two, that hearing Komaeda’s genuine laughter had a dangerous effect on his heart. Komaeda had always complained that his hands were always too cold to be normal, though it was funny to Hinata that he could distinctly remember nothing but warmth coming from him that day.  
  
Somewhere along the way, it feels like that changed.

When he found him, he was sitting alone under the gazebo in the light of waxing moon, looking anxious and unsteady. He’d been meaning to tell Hinata about something, which granted, made it feel like someone forced him to swallow stones like a pigeon by the way his stomach is churning at the prospect of learning something new about Komaeda. But he’d been waiting for it, and though he’d never admit so, deep down he’d been counting on it.  
  
“Ah, I was hoping you wouldn’t fall asleep too soon, knowing just how much you like to nap.” Komaeda’s smile was somber, though the tiredness was evident. There was definitely something important on his mind, and for some reason, Hinata couldn’t silence the nagging voice in the back of his mind spelling out a hundred worst case scenarios.  
  
Well, whatever. He came here to speak nothing but the truth as well, even if it might hurt.  
  
Hinata did his best to smile and sat down next to him, so that they were both facing the moonlight; it gave something to focus on apart from their tension if nothing else. “It seems like there’s something on your mind after all…”  
In the distance, Hinata’s eyes caught onto a rabbit that had strayed into the academy grounds. Grey, wide-eyed, only half-alert and with a twitching nose. It wasn’t lost nor was it looking to be found, it was simply taking its leisurely time. A luxury that no one in the real world could really afford anymore. In some odd way, there was a reason to be jealous of such a blissfully ignorant creature.  
  
Komaeda let out a small hum, “Something on my mind, huh…? Yeah, you’re right about that but I…”  
  
“You don’t know how to say it?”  
  
A small nod was Komaeda’s response, almost looking sad and conflicted as he stared straight ahead into the courtyard garden. In the moonlight, it was hard to tell if there were still flowers alive in the garden or if they’ve wilted over. It made Komaeda sad to realize that he never got to appreciate the morning glories and sunflowers this year until he remembered too late. And how ironic that he remembered flowers not in the daytime, but rather the dead of night.  
  
“Hinata-kun…” He uttered quietly, voice laced with hesitation, “You know how much my luck cycle has affected my life, right?”  
  
That would be a severe understatement, Hinata would’ve said, but kept it to himself and nodded rather than bring up old wounds. From the trauma of watching his parents die in front of him, to getting kidnapped by a serial killer, to countless other things — it was clear that his luck was never anything to sneeze at.  
  
Hinata felt the other shift closer on the bench, probably because of the chill in the air. If Hinata didn’t know any better, he’d assume the look on Komaeda’s face was nervousness. “Hope’s Peak Academy has been struggling to figure out my luck cycle, and how and why it affects me. They… don’t know how to extract or fabricate it.”  
  
“F-fabricate it? For what?”  
  
There it was, that bad feeling…

 

“Hinata-kun, I’m not supposed to be telling anyone this but, I trust you not to vocalize something like this. Hope’s Peak Academy is undergoing a secret research project, known as the Kamukura Project. An individual will be subjected to alterations that would bestow them with every known talent at this academy. They will be known as Ultimate Hope itself…” As Komaeda’s words came to a slow, the heaviness of the name Ultimate Hope was an entirely different taste for him. It was rich, it was powerful, it was the one thing that Komaeda had so desperately clung to over the years; he’d grown fascinated with it, so much that Hinata started to fear that Komaeda might have forgotten the real meaning of hope.  
  
To Hinata, their conversation somehow numbed him. How ironic that those were the words that he had initially planned to tell Komaeda tonight instead of the other way around.  
  
“They were looking to choose a student from the reserve course, someone completely untalented to experiment on. Apparently, there was one person they have in mind from the reserve course, but I was told that it’s confidential. However, since their research of me is lacking, they thought it would be quicker if I was the subject since they wouldn’t have to bother with my luck cycle. After all, apart from being lucky, I really am talentless — but it’s why I look up to my classmates in 77-B. They’re all so radiant. Th—”  
  
“Komaeda.”  
  
The boy in question broke into a stunned silence at Hinata’s abrupt voice. An uneasiness began to hang in the air between them as Hinata contemplated his next words, braced himself, even.  
  
“That’s why you’ve been talking to Matsuda, isn’t it?” Hinata tried to steady his shaky voice, noticing a nod from the other from the corner of his eye. “  
Right, well. What Matsuda _didn’t_ tell you, was that _I_ was the only other subject chosen and willing to go through with the project.”

The silence had settled between them yet again. This time, it felt like the tension could barely be cut through. Hinata refused to meet the grey of Komaeda’s eyes, not until he would say something, _anything_.

 

“…You’re rather bad at making jokes, Hinata-kun.”  
  
That word struck a nerve of Hinata’s, feeling his temper rise a little quicker than anticipated, “A _joke?_ Is that what this means to you?”  
  
“ _Hina_ —”  
  
“No, really, which part was a joke to you? Is it the fact that I’m talentless or the fact that I’m just a substitute for an Ultimate? Don’t you get that it’s tiring to live like this? When people talk down on you as if you’re nothing but second choice? Or maybe you just don’t relate to my sentiment at all, huh.”

 

“Don’t _you_ understand that it’s just as exhausting for me to live a life where I’m constantly plagued by the worst possible outcome?” Komaeda snapped back, bordering on something between irritation and frustration. He did understand, but he also knew that Hinata had a kind soul that had the ability to befriend and get along with others. Hinata had the capacity to love and be loved without bringing them harm. “…This is hope, for me. This is my hope. If I go through with the project, then I may be able to control my luck cycle.”  
  
“And what if it doesn’t? Then what? You just want to accept that and live with the regret that you were always damned from the start?”  
  
“What about you, then? How are you so sure that things will just work out?”  
  
“I _don’t_. I don’t know. None of us know. It’s a gamble, but that’s why I don’t want you to throw away your identity, as Komaeda Nagito, as the Ultimate Lucky Student.”  
His lips pressed into a fine line, fists clenched as he spoke, “That’s why it’s fine for me, because I’m a nobody in this academy— I have neither identity, nor value. And I’m sure you think so too.”

 

Komaeda’s neutral expression faltered just a moment, overtaken by what Hinata knew was hurt, evident in the way his eyes widened, in the way his eyebrows furrowed that made him look guilty.  
  
“Hinata-kun, I know I said terrible things in the past. There’s been a breaking point where I don’t know if I can trust anything but hope to pull me through. I know that. I’m… sorry for that, for judging you the way I did even though we’ve known each other for so long but… even so, I cared. You were different. You still are different, you don’t need to do this to prove a point to yourself just—”  
  
“I… just wanted to be equals with you. I know in the past I used to act like it wouldn’t bother me, the times I’d help out the main course every now and then. It was overwhelming, you know?” He paused, focusing on the moonlight that filled the seating area, the pillars and vines casting long shadows on the ground. “I know what you mean when you say that you feel unworthy in their presence. But you’re still an Ultimate… I think that alone is enough to honor you.”  
  
Komaeda didn’t say anything in response, but Hinata didn’t mind; it was probably true that this was all too much to take in at once, but as Matsuda had said, they didn’t have all the time in the world to decide their fate.  
  
“Then what will it be? Should neither of us accept the offer?”

He gave Hinata a pensive stare, worry lining his features much like the moonlight illuminated his face; but he wouldn’t give himself the luxury to entertain such romantics.

“I’ll give it up if you do.”  


 

* * *

 

  
  
 It had been more than a week since Hinata and Komaeda had agreed to step back from the Kamukura Project for each other’s sake. Not to mention, their own sakes.  
The week had gone surprisingly slow, with classes consuming most of the day, and the rest of it was spent studying or reading alone. Though, with only three days until the application deadline, Komaeda couldn’t help but wonder about the possibilities if he did, in fact, become Kamukura Izuru. It was almost a dream to imagine having so much talent, let alone be known as the Ultimate Hope of humanity. Komaeda had initially only been into the aspect of having control over his own luck, his mind began to wander; would his past identity be kept a secret? Would his appearance and personality change? Would his interests change? They weren’t things he needed to know, but the curiosity humored him for a little while regardless.  
  
Komaeda had been on his way to meet with Matsuda, to finally confirm that he wanted out of the program, that he would try his best as Komaeda Nagito, for Hinata’s sake at the very least. He’d lost sight of him in the past when there were things he thought to be more valuable, attitudes and words that worked like a defence mechanism. To keep everyone away; to keep them safe, but now he started to understand why it was nothing but counterproductive — destructive to him, burning bridges when he only wanted to be understood, to be cared for. It was fear and arrogance that clouded his judgement.  
  
A fist was promptly raised to knock on the laboratory door of the Ultimate Neurosurgeon. It was a secluded area in the academy designed specifically for Matsuda and his neurological research and development work, though Komaeda could often spot familiar faces every now and then lurking around the campus. There’s been rumors that there are undercover agents within the academy trying to steal blueprints to intensive plans and operations that had never been disclosed outside of the academy before — but then again, rumors are just that.  
The click of the door unlocking was all Komaeda needed to snap back to reality. Faced with the crude and unfriendly boy currently scribbling away at his desk was bound to do _wonders_ for his lack of self-esteem, but he’d dealt with Matsuda’s foul-mouth enough to think nothing of it.  
  
“Hey, Matsuda-kun, I’ve been meaning to bring this up to you, but… I think I’m going to back out of the Kamukura Project.”  
  
“Hm.”  
  
If Komaeda was honest, that had to be the most half-assed answer he’d ever heard in his life. But there was uncertainty dwelling in his stomach at the implications of his answer.

 

“That’s fine. Though I gotta say,” Matsuda spoke monotonously as he turned his attention back to his paperwork, “It was rather surprising that Hinata really did take the offer for the project when he rushed in earlier this week.”

 

Komaeda’s throat felt dry.  
  
“He… what?”

Matsuda’s steely eyes didn’t leave his paperwork, a look and tone that was nothing more than annoyed resonated from him, “What are you, _deaf?_ ” Komaeda paid no mind to what was his usual, typical bite, “I said that he took the offer up. He signed the contract Monday afternoon.”

  
He could say that it was peculiar, how time felt like it’d been forced to a crawl. Though he could swear he heard the ticking of the clock all the same as ever before.  
  
“It was rather strange of him, though…” He continued nonchalantly, unaware of Komaeda’s crumbling state of composure, “Just a day before, he’d been asking to pull out of the project. Maybe it was because of something that old man Kirigiri said that changed his mind and made him confirm instead. Anyway, it’s not any of my damn busine—"

 

Unthinking, uncaring, Komaeda’s legs instinctively rushed him to the desk, began frantically and haphazardly rummaging through the endless stacks of documents and notes.  
  
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

  
Komaeda was growing tired of Matsuda’s senseless barking.

It was background noise at this point, just as the fluorescent lights that hung overhead in the office were dimming one at a time; though he knew that in reality it was nothing more than his insolent mind shutting off from panic despite him. After all, there was still light out, the afterglow at least. Perhaps, if luck favoured him for once in his life, there was still time for things to change.  
  
Even so, Komaeda couldn’t keep himself from digging through Matsuda’s files, eventually finding the name “Hinata Hajime” accompanied with curved of black ink. He shakily held the papers in his hands, trying to process it— not quite knowing if he wanted to process it. Not quite knowing if he just wanted to sink to his knees and breakdown. Not quite knowing what the future holds anymore, as hope rides right on the cusp of despair.

  

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So, you signed the papers, huh?”  
  
Komaeda had dragged Hinata by the wrist into an empty classroom the moment he laid eyes on him; it took every bit of self control not to rip the contract that day, and it took that much more to contain his temper. He deserved an explanation at least.  
  
Yet, he was met with stubborn silence.  
  
“You were just lying about it, then, huh? But it’s fine, you should be grateful for the opportunity.” His voice steadily became heavy with bitterness, watching as Hinata still refused to meet his eyes properly.  
  
“It doesn’t look like it’s fine, it looks like you’re hurt.”  
  
“Maybe, because I wish it was me instead.”  
  
“…That’s a lie, isn’t it?”  
  
“Don’t act like you know me, Hinata-kun.” It was a retort meant to sting, not burn. Hinata had seen it enough times to see the real issue and not the provoking shove.  
  
“But I do know you, I know you better than anyone. I know you enough to see through the fact that you’re not really angry, just hurt because you thought I lied. I… didn’t _want_ to, Komaeda.”  
   
“Then why—”  
  
“We were… threatened to be kicked out if we backed out now. It was either you or me, so I had to go in your place.”  
  
Komaeda didn’t speak for what felt like an hour; the silence should have made Hinata’s skin itch with anxiety, but strangely enough, he didn’t.

  
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that things would turn around right when he’d established some solid footing in his life. Yet nothing was absolute, and everything changed. There was nothing of permanence in his life, not even the sky, not even his own soul anymore. But, if there was just one thing that remained untouched, it would be…

 

“…Hope.”  
  
The word made Komaeda’s heart jump a little,

“I want you believe in me, Komaeda. I won’t forget you. I needed to do this for you, because I…”  
  
Hinata willed his heart to not be overwhelmed, fearful, though somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he would have a chance to say those words to Komaeda again. It was nothing more but intuition, but sometimes he just wanted to close his eyes and be able to trust himself.

  
“…I just mean that, if Hope’s Peak Academy truly is the only good thing left in your life, then I don’t want a risk to take that away from you. I know how happy you were to come to this school. You deserve this more than anyone else. I know that things might have actually ended up turning out okay, but I want you to be happy one day as Komaeda Nagito, not Kamukura Izuru.”

“You really are leaving, aren’t you." It wasn't a question; more like a quiet confirmation. Somewhere hidden in those words was a question that he desperately wanted a negation of. Something that Hinata would brush off casually, laugh off as if it was a joke that he tried to explain but couldn't because they were laughing too hard. It was the first time in a long while that Komaeda thought good of his past, and the fact that Hinata was always, always there for him. It felt like nothing but salt in open wounds to imagine that he’d wasted the time he was given with someone like Hinata.  
He’d betrayed him.  
  
“You know, I never stopped caring about you, Hinata-kun. I know I never let it show but, this academy was never the most important thing to me. Hope means everything to me, but I think I needed to realize that hope lies in the finer cracks and crevices. It lies in the kind and nurturing souls, it lies in people who persist and believe in an ending. Just like how the little things matter, right? So, even if this is too late to give away or take back…”  
  
_Too late to take back…_  
  
Hinata could feel his legs threatening to give out from the overwhelming emotion. He’d never felt so unsure of a major decision, it never truly hit him that he just threw his life away until he saw Komaeda leaning into him.

The kiss was mild, chaste; what was meant to convey several feelings at once was too short lived to express them all. But Komaeda hoped more than anything that he’d understand what was important, that he cared, that he regretted, that he was scared, but he believed in him above all else.

  
“You could say that’s… for good luck. Maybe so that you won’t end up as cursed as I am.”  
  
“That was cruel of you to do that now of all times, Komaeda.”  
  
Yet again, there was the sheepish smile, “Yeah… probably. I’m sorry that I was scared all this time. I still am, but I believe in you more than that.”  
  
There was something about the silence between them, and the warmth in the steely grey of Komaeda’s eyes that made things less terrifying than before. It was a lullaby to soothe his doubts and fears, the way he was confident that his own faith would be intertwined with Hinata’s fate. It might even work in his favor, knowing how much he believed in his luck despite all it’s done to him. Like he would wait for him, _actually_ wait for him, to come back.

  
The moment of hesitancy had absolved into thin air the moment Hinata took hold of his hand. It was a small gesture, but he’d hoped it meant something to Komaeda.

“I hope we meet again, someday.”  
  
“Yeah,” It was just a whisper, tired and anxious for what the future, but it was just as hopeful. “Me too.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

> **When I’ll meet your now crimson eyes in the hallways, devoid of warmth,**
> 
> **I’ll still smile back at you with everything left in me, waiting, despite icy expression he throws back at me.**
> 
> **Waiting, despite knowing the chances.**
> 
> **Waiting, for the sun to smile back at me some day.**
> 
> **For you were the one that instilled this hope in me.**
> 
> **A real hope.**
> 
> **I think it goes by the name, “love”?**
> 
>  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> now, i sleep .
> 
> comments + kudos very highly appreciated!


End file.
